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Fifty Shades Darker stir-fry sex scene is a terribly unsexy depiction of kitchen coitus
Fifty Shades Darker stir-fry sex scene is a terribly unsexy depiction of kitchen coitus-February 2024
Feb 12, 2026 4:27 PM

  Obviously, there is a very strong relationship between food and romance. First dates (and subsequent ones) often take place over dinner and wine, or in my case: pizza and beer. #deeplez

  And while cooking a meal for the object of your desire is incredibly sweet (if the food is good), banging while cooking a stir fry because vegetable chopping gives you a boner is something that belongs in trashy romance novels. Lucky for you, the latest in the Fifty Shades of Grey series gives you an erotic wok scene that you will literally never experience in your life.

  Scott Bryan of BuzzFeed UK shared this incredible excerpt from Darker: Fifty Shades Darker as Told by Christian and it literally made me spit out my LaCroix:

  In case you missed that last part, it reads: “Swallowing hard, she picks up the bowl of diced chicken, rather clumsily places a plate over the top, and puts the whole thing in the fridge.”

  Follow Scott’s thread for more hilarity, including postcoital Coldplay and some appreciation for the author’s commitment to food safety.

  The Takeout crew started thinking of more realistic kitchen scenes after reading this one. While they don’t end in orgasms and Coldplay, we think they’re a bit more true to life:

  He whipped up her favorite chicken marinade, hoping a spicy and savory meal would put his wife in the mood. “Come here and try this,” he said, licking his lips and playfully dangling a spoon near her mouth. “I’m drinking wine right now Jerry,” she said, “just make the sauce my God.” She sat on the couch, turned on Bakeoff, and called her sister.

  “I know, our feelings for each other are so strong,” he whispers as I slowly slide a chef’s knife through the vegetables. “No,” I answer. “I’m literally chopping onions and they make me cry.” I try to wipe away the lone tear that trickles down my cheek, but now I’ve just smeared onion juice closer to my eye. Frustrated, I throw down the knife and storm to the bathroom to scrub my face. The mirepoix burns.“Pound it! Pound it! Oh my God! Harder!” Lucy screamed, taking a hammer to the lid of the Prego spaghetti sauce jar that refuses to open.

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